


Shadowed Valleys

by The_Winter_Straw



Series: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [7]
Category: Ant-Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Compliant, POV Second Person, Post-Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018), Rape Aftermath, Rape Pregnancy, Rape Recovery, Reader-Insert, canon character is not the rapist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: You never imagined that shadow of death would be quite so dark.
Relationships: Hank Pym/Janet Van Dyne, Scott Lang/Hope Van Dyne, Thor (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1379488
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	1. How It Happened

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like the fact that there's an obvious warning here means that I don't need to do my GIANT BOLDED WARNINGS that I put everywhere else. If you clicked on this, then you already know there's rape involved. But just in case you got here somehow without seeing that, consider yourself warned now. This is a part of my unnecessarily long depressing pregnancy series, so I will of course be trying to write this as respectfully as possible-but feel free to skip this portion and come back in a few months for the unambiguously happy lesbian story if this story's subject matter makes you at all uncomfortable.

It came as no to surprise to you to hear the landline in your little home ringing the moment you set foot inside. Like clockwork, that phone rang at the exact same time every day. Bright afternoon sunlight flooded your entryway through the windows in the nearby kitchen. The glare should have blinded you so that you could not find the right hook for the jacket you'd put on to combat that morning's brief chill. You found it on the first try—also like clockwork, as were your swift steps into that kitchen to pick up the phone before the caller got your answering machine. 

"Hey, baby," you said warmly into the receiver. No need to check who it was first; only one person ever called you at this time of day. 

"[Name]." True to form, Thor's strong, comforting voice greeted you just like it always did. "I have missed you." 

"You always say that." 

"Because it's always true." 

You had to clear your throat to rid your stomach of the butterflies Thor's words shot into it. After nearly two years of dating, he could still make you feel like a kid with her first crush, and he often did. First he'd gone out of his way to learn how to use a cellphone just so he could call you regularly whenever he had to be in Manhattan, then he went and said things like that. Alone in your sunlit kitchen, you did your best not to allow yourself to blush. 

"I miss you, too. How are things up there? Any imminent catastrophes I should be aware of?" of you asked. 

He laughed. "No, not unless you count Banner's continued attempts to become one with the Hulk a catastrophe." 

"I'm sure Tony does." 

"He does not seem to understand the point in such an exercise. At any rate, there is nothing much to do except when the Hulk gets tired of the prodding, which is not so often anymore. It leaves me with nothing to do but think about how much I'd rather be with you. How was work?" 

You made a noncommittal noise in the back of your throat. 

"That bad?" Thor inquired. 

"It's not _bad_." Brows furrowed in an expression you knew he couldn't see, you absently twisted the phone cord around your fingers. "Just _boring._ I'm grateful Hope got me the job after Pym Industries...imploded. I just wish I was doing something more _meaningful_ , I guess." 

"I understand completely. Our work here in meaningful. You know that Tony has told me that he would be more than happy to find you a job with Pepper's company. All you need do is ask." 

Now it was _your_ turn to laugh. "Sure. _That_ wouldn't piss Hank off enough to start a useless fight with Tony and the rest of you." 

"It would be nice to have you closer." 

"I agree. Hank told me he'd rather see me dead than working for a Stark, but I'll see what I can do." 

"I am certain that Dr. Pym would never say something quite so dramatic." 

"You don't know Hank like I do," you said. "He can be _pretty_ damn dramatic it when it comes to Starks. I don't know what I'd do for Pepper that I can't already do here anyway. My whole life is here, except for you." 

"I shall take your word for it. But should you ever change your mind?" 

"You'll be the first to know. Probably be smart if I didn't tell Hope or Hank until I got there. Anyway, what are you guys all up to tonight?" you asked as you leaned against the wall. 

"Nothing exciting, I assure you. I believe that Steve's Bucky is going to make us all dinner." 

"Bucky can cook?" 

"No. He cannot." There was a smile in Thor's voice. "But I was told that he could at one time, and none of us wishes to discourage his attempts to relearn it. If his food is as bad as last time, we will sneak out for shawarma once the two of them have retired for the night. How about you? Any big plans for the weekend?" 

You wondered if he could hear the pregnancy in your pause before you answered, "Kevin's coming over for dinner tonight." 

"Kevin," Thor echoed. 

For some reason, your pulse seemed to have moved into your ears. It thudded there so loudly that you thought you might miss Thor's response. You realized that what you were doing was unusual. You realized not mentioning this to your boyfriend earlier looked pretty bad on paper. The whole thing was pretty last minute, though, and if he told you he didn't approve, you'd probably just drop the whole thing. Seeing Kevin again was not worth a fight with Thor. 

"Remind me," he said after a minute or so. "Who is Kevin?" 

"Kevin and I used to date, before I met you. We're not having a date or anything tonight. It's nothing romantic," you added quickly. "He called this morning because he's in town on a business trip, and we thought it might be nice to catch up. We were best friends before we got together. I haven't seen him for..." 

"For nearly two years, yes. Yes, I remember Kevin now." 

"So?" 

"So what?" 

"So...can I have him over for dinner?" 

The question sounded stupid and childish, of that you were well aware. Thor did not point that out. Instead, his tone was quite gentle when he said, "[Name], I trust you completely. If you wish to have a previous beau over and remember the old times, I have no desire to prevent you from doing so. Lifelong friends are gift. Please enjoy yourself tonight. Certainly this Kevin will be having a better meal than what I have to look forward to." 

"You don't even know what I'm making." 

"The what does not matter. Will you call me again before you go to bed? So that I can bid you goodnight?" he asked. 

This, too, was like clockwork. You smiled. "Of course I will. I love you." 

"I love you, too. Farewell for now." 

"Bye, Thor." 

You knew his end of the line wouldn't go dead until you hung up. Thor was the kind of boyfriend you could spend hours soppily going back and forth over who had to do the deed first—and you were both grown adults. Sadly, sometimes grown adults had things to do, so you did not linger that evening. He probably didn't expect you to. A faint _click_ announced that you'd successfully placed the phone back on its dock, then you turned to face the rest of the kitchen. 

No time for a deep clean. Kevin said he would be by about seven o'clock, which left you with just under two hours to throw together a decent meal and take a shower. Luckily you didn't think your home was _too_ much of a mess. Actually, it tended to stay cleaner when Thor wasn't around. At least you wouldn't have to worry about trying to eat with Mjølnir sitting on the table and no one around to lift it. That left you with only one thing to worry about: what to cook for an ex-boyfriend on such short notice. You'd been far too busy at work to go grocery shopping the past week, so the meal wasn't going to be anything extravagant whatever Thor thought to the contrary. 

Why were you so _worried_? This was _Kevin_ , your best friend from grade school on. You'd almost _married_ the guy. He wasn't the type to stick his nose up at any meal. Two years couldn't change that. Some of the tension in your chest evaporated as you set to throwing something together. Thor knew who you were seeing that night and didn't care; Kevin had called you out of the blue wanting to get together; you had a job after your last one had come a sudden, forcible end. Things were _good_. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. 

An hour and a half later, the smell of the garlic bread fresh out of the oven wafted through the house, stamping out even the closer scents of your shampoo and hairspray. Everything sat ready on the table. You had changed into something more comfortable than the business casual garb required by your employer. Just as you completed the finishing touches on your reapplied makeup, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat as you hastily straightened away from the mirror. 

"Coming!" you shouted before you could think. A quick look in the mirror indicated you hadn't started sweating too badly yet, but you could tell that was about to come. Your heart beat so rapidly that it felt like one continual squeeze inside your chest. Did you look okay? Did you smell okay? Did the house look like one you ought to own? 

_Ding-dong_. The ring came again. 

"C-coming!" 

No more time to waste on useless thoughts. He was _here_. After slipping on the shoes waiting for you by the entrance to the bathroom, you hurried down the hall until you made it to the front door. You reached for the knob, hesitated, closed your eyes, then finally forced yourself to open the door. Outside it was already dark, but in the porch light stood a familiar man with long, dark hair that flopped halfway across his forehead. 

"Kevin!" you said. 

"Hey, [Name]." 

Just like that, his familiar smile made all your anxiety evaporate. You stepped outside and embraced him. Had he always been this tall? Wrapping your arms around his shoulders required you to stand on your tippy-toes and Kevin to duck. He smelled the same as always, of the same aftershave you'd first given him as an anniversary present. The moment you noticed this, you stepped away. 

Kevin's bright blue eyes moved up and down your body. "You look great." 

"You do, too. I like the suit. Is that for work?" 

"They do like me to dress nice. Kind of thought it would be hassle to go back to my hotel and change." 

"No, I get it. Oh!" You felt blush pool in your cheeks. "Please, come inside." 

"Thank you." 

He followed you into the entry way and allowed you to take his suit jacket. The scrutinizing look he seemed to throw at everything inside did nothing to fade the warmth from your face. You couldn't throw his jacket on a hook quickly enough. 

"So, I wasn't really sure what we ought to have for dinner. I hope you still like spaghetti and meatballs." 

"I'd kill for your spaghetti and meatballs. Hey, is that other guy around?" 

Other guy? You stared blankly at Kevin for a few seconds. His lips quirked up into a smile. 

"Your new boyfriend," he clarified. 

"Oh, Thor?" Who didn't know Thor's name? But Kevin just nodded lazily, so he must not have thought you were dating someone _else_. 

"Yeah. That's the guy. The big hero." 

"Thor's out of town this weekend. Like I told you this morning, he trades off weeks with some of the other Avengers." 

Kevin nodded vaguely, already eyeing the kitchen you’d led him to. "You made garlic bread, too?" he asked, delighted, as he caught sight of the set dinner table. 

" _And_ a salad, even though I know you probably aren't going to touch that." 

"Hey, now, that's unfair." He nudged you with an elbow as he put on an exaggerated pout. "I've lost a bit weight. Didn't you notice?" 

Actually, you had. Hugging him had been altogether different experience that night than it ever had before. Losing a _little bit_ of weight was an understatement. You had once really enjoyed hugging Kevin; he'd been soft and warm. He had muscles now, though, and had become all hard angles. They remained somewhat hidden beneath the white button-up he wore, but you could definitely see the suggestion of them better than before. 

"You do look... _really_ healthy, Kev. Are you working out?" 

He ducked his head in a bashful show. His eyes, however, remained on you, and his smirk remained apparent. "Yeah. Well, after your longtime girlfriend breaks up with you because she met some foreign bodybuilder, you start thinking you ought to make a few lifestyle changes. You like it?" 

"Uh...yeah! You look good. I hope," you added, "that you haven't turned into one of those gym guys who never drinks. Thor's more of a beer guy, and it's been ages since I had an excuse to open a bottle of wine.” 

"I would be more than happy to share some with you in place of him." 

What was it about the flash of his straight, white teeth that made something zing up your spine? To cover for your sudden shiver, you motioned for Kevin to take a seat at the table, which he did. This bought you some time to slip into the nearby pantry. You stood in the dark there, trying to exhale all your misplaced anxiety. Thor flirting with you gave you butterflies; Kevin doing the same gave you _wasps_. And what did he mean about you breaking up with him for Thor? That wasn't how _you_ remembered it happening. Yes, you'd met Thor just a little bit before you broke up with Kevin, but that had only been a coincidence. Hadn't it? 

"Need some help in here?" 

A little shriek burst from your throat as you spun on the spot. Kevin had got up from the table while you'd been lost in your thoughts. He stood now in the open doorway to the pantry. It was then that you realized just how large he really was. Growing up, he'd always been the taller and the broader of the two of you, but his fitness regime having melted away all his fat somehow made him seem bigger than ever. His body blocked out most of the light coming in from the kitchen, turning him into a gigantic black monolith sitting directly in your path. 

"What's the matter?" he asked. "You food's gonna get cold." 

"Right!" you squeaked, and hastily snatched up the first wine bottle your eyes fell upon. 

Back out in the kitchen, you found that you could breathe a little better. Kevin took the bottle, uncorked it with the tool waiting on the counter, and walked back over to the table. You remained standing while you waited for your heartbeat to slow. Why were you so _scared_? This was _Kevin_. You'd known him since both of you were babies. This was the man that had spent hours with you playing _World of Warcraft_ when you were in middle and high school; the man that had taken you to your senior prom; the man you'd thought only a few short years ago that you were going to marry. He wasn't _flirting_ with you. He was just being nice. What was there to be afraid of? 

He looked up at you from his seat with a question in his eyes. You took a deep breath. That was _it_. No more acting like you barely knew this guy. Rearranging your face into the most natural smile you could muster, you followed him over to the table to pour the waiting white wine into a couple of glasses. Then you _finally_ took a seat. 

Kevin rubbed his hands together and reached for his wine. "This all looks amazing as usual. Thanks for putting it together on such short notice. I'm really glad we were able to get together like this." 

"Me, too. I'm so glad you called to let me know you were in town. To old friends?" you asked, tipping your wine glass toward his. 

Something flickered in his expression—or you thought it did. Possibly you imagined the crinkling of his brow, because the next second, he clinked your glasses together and beamed. 

"To old friends," he echoed. 

Talking with him after that became almost as simple as it had been when you were kids. Maybe it was the wine. One hour passed, then two, then three, and you found yourself getting another bottle somewhere in the middle of that, though you yourself had only had two glasses. But you weren't worried. Kevin was his old jokey self. He even started up that familiar debate between the two of you over whose main in _World of Warcraft_ could beat the other's. Even though you didn't have nearly as much time to play as you once had, it was a conversation that always managed to lighten you up. You quite forgot he'd ever made you nervous by the time you both were scraping the last dregs of chocolate cake off your plates. 

"So, where are you working now?" Kevin asked after a brief bout of comfortable silence. "Not Pym Industries, right? My GPS doesn't even register that as a place anymore." 

"No, it kind of fell off the map. I've got a job doing about the same thing at a local company now. It's smaller, but at least it's still here." 

"You mean you don't want to move to New York?" 

"Why would I want to move to New York?" you asked, confused. 

"Well, that's where your boyfriend works, isn't it?" 

"Yeah, but Thor's not the _only_ important part of my life. I like it here, and it's easier for _him_ to commute than it is for me. All my friends live here, too. I'd hate to leave Hope and Hank behind." 

Kevin smiled wryly. "Still in contact with the Pyms, huh?" 

"Of course I am. Hope's my best friend." 

"Hm." 

"Something wrong with that?" 

"No," he said quickly. "I guess it's just that I'm a little surprised you can care about people like that for so long. You were so eager to leave _me_ behind." 

All the warmth seemed to get sucked out of the room. Goosebumps rose across your skin. "That's not fair." 

A wave of the hand was clearly meant to clear the air. "Sorry. That came out wrong. I just meant—well, can you blame a guy for being jealous? After all these years, you're still attached at the hip to Hope and her nutcase father—" 

"Hank is _not_ crazy!" 

"Fine, fine." He knew. He _knew_ you didn't like it when he said things like that, and he lifted both his hands, palms forward, as though to calm you. Needless to say, this did not work, especially as he went on to say, "But listen, [Name], why _did_ you break up with me? Just give me one good reason." 

"We've been over this, Kev." 

"Not in a long time. Maybe you changed your mind. Please. It keeps me up at night." 

As though how Kevin spent his nights mattered to you anymore. You didn't want to have this argument with your ex-boyfriend again. All the times you'd had it in the weeks directly following your breakup should have been enough to get things through his head. Instead of giving him any answer, you stood from your seat and began to gather dishes into your arms. 

"It's been great seeing you," you said without looking at him, "but it's getting late and I have somewhere to be tomorrow morning." 

Kevin didn't move, not even as you headed for the sink with the dirty plates. "Hope won't care if you're a little tired over coffee. Come on. Did you break up with me because I was out of shape? 'Cause I changed all that." 

"No, Kevin." 

"Then _why_? Was it the accent? Was it that he was on TV? _What_?" 

You dropped your things onto the counter with a little more force than necessary. "For the last time, I didn't ditch you so I could hook up with Thor! We hardly _knew_ each other at the time!" 

"Sure. If that's true, why can't you give me a straight answer now?" 

"Because I don't _owe_ you a straight answer. I don't owe you anything. You know what? I think it's time for you to leave." 

In the silence that followed your proclamation, you struggled to pull yourself together. The window that hung in front of your face was nothing but a pitch black square. You couldn't even see the little patio out there to distract yourself with worrying over your plants. God, you felt so _stupid_. You'd really thought Kevin had called you that morning because he wanted to be _friends_ —friends like you had been before he asked you out in the tenth grade, friends like you'd _felt_ you were again over dinner. Truth be told, you'd missed him a lot over the past couple of years...but you hadn't missed his wheedling or his arguing or his whining. 

Whether or not you could remain clam didn't matter. You opened your mouth and tried to turn around so that you could see him out the door. The chance to do either never arose. A pair of arms slid around your waist, locking you into place there in front of your sink. 

"Hey, don't be like that." Kevin's lips tickled the side of your neck where they rested. 

You swiftly spun to face him. "What are you doing?" 

"Making sure this night ends right." 

Whip-quick, his face moved forward. His mouth met yours in a fierce kiss. Trapped between Kevin and the sink, you couldn't move backwards to get away—but you _could_ move your arms to shove him. He was too dense now to move much. Luckily, he was startled enough by your action to stop what he was doing. 

"[Name]..." he said softly. 

"Kevin," your heartbeat made your voice flutter, "you're drunk." 

"Maybe you're not drunk enough, babe." 

"Don't call me babe. And get out of my house. _Now_." 

His next words made your blood run cold: "Or what?" 

That was a very good question. You could hardly move Kevin, and the phone was all the way across the room. Surely you could think of _something_ , if you'd had the time. He didn't give you any. His hands were around you again the very next second, tugging on your clothes, fondling your chest, tangling in your hair. 

"Don't pretend this isn't what you want." His breath stunk of wine. Only then did it occur to you that the reason you had to go back for a second bottle was because _he_ had drank so much. You knew your limits—but still you worried that you might have gone a little over them all the same. 

"Kevin, please," you whispered. 

"You don't need to beg. You already told me what you wanted without having to say a word. I mean, you went to all that trouble to make sure that boyfriend of yours wasn't here for my visit—" 

"He's at work!" 

"And then you got all dressed up. You even cooked all this for me! Hey." His moist palm against your cheek made you shudder. "It'll just be a one night stand. He'll never find out what we did tonight." 

Even in his present inebriated state, Kevin's fingers were deft. _Some_ piece of your clothing was going to be off soon. Your mind was half-frozen with fear. Fortunately, half-frozen was not _all_ frozen. Some vaguely recalled self-defense lesson with Hope returned to you just long enough for you to lift a leg and level a kick right at his shin. 

"Ow!" he snapped. 

_Un_ fortunately, this didn't force him to release you. You tried to dart to one side so you could make a run for the door, but already he had placed his arms there again. Instinctively, you raised a knee to try attacking something a little higher up. Kevin was ready for that. Before you could get there, he struck you full across the face. Something in his eyes hardened. He looked suddenly alien to you. 

"You don't get to push me around anymore," he snarled. 

Shock flooded your system. All you could think was that he'd hit you. _Kevin_ had hit you. No one had _ever_ hit you before—not your parents, not Thor, and certainly not the boy you'd gone to school dances with as friends for years before he got the courage to ask you on a date! Thinking straight became a struggle. Your eyes darted around for any chance of escape. While you were distracted, he managed to pull your top off over your head. 

"Maybe I just need to remind you of the good times." His hands groped ever-lower. "Like I said, that boyfriend of yours will _never_ find out." 

You screamed. At least, you thought you screamed. Over and over _something_ came out of your mouth. But if you did make any sound, there was no one around to hear. There was no one to stop Kevin from doing exactly what he wanted. Not even you.


	2. Telling Him

Cold. You were so cold. The hospital air conditioning blasted into your exam room without end, rattling the vents in the ceiling and causing the thin, waxy paper beneath you to skitter faintly against the freezing metal beneath it. Now that the worst was over—four and a half hours of poking and grasping and questioning—you had nothing left to distract you from how near you were to seeing your own breath. Still, the temperature was at least _something_ solid to grasp at. Better that you put all your being into not shivering violently than allowing yourself to think of— 

Someone knocked at the door. You did not manage to entirely stifle a shriek as you jumped backwards on top of the bed. Heart hammering, you'd only just reminded yourself that if anyone had come to see you, it would only be the nurse that had been helping you when the door opened. In stepped a familiar woman who was decidedly _not_ a nurse. 

"It's just me," Hope said as she shut the door. 

She was not a gentle woman by any stretch of the imagination, but at the moment she looked as soft as she ever had since the week she'd lost her mother. It helped that she had been growing her hair out from its previous severe bob, too. Even seeing her look like that didn't cause you to fully relax. All you could force yourself to do was scoot back to the edge of the paper. 

"Is it over?" you asked hoarsely around your sore throat. 

"The nurse told me you're free to go, unless you'd like them to call Officer Bernard back." 

"No." 

Hope gazed at you tenderly for far too long. That night, you just didn't have it in you to fight with her over something like this. You broke eye contact first. She did not leave in the time you spent staring at the poster about proper hand washing techniques, however. A few seconds later you heard the click of her high heels against the tile floor—she was the only person you knew who would bother to put on heels when summoned to the emergency room at one in the morning—then the rustling of the paper as she perched next to you in what little space was available. Her strong arms pulled you against her side. 

"Oh, [Name]," she murmured. 

You said noting, too afraid that you'd start crying if you so much as opened your mouth. All you'd done since coming to the hospital was cry, and well before that, when—no, you couldn't think of that. Focus instead on Hope, you told yourself, who was real and solid and smelled just like the perfume she always wore. Every part of the procedure had caused you to shed more tears, from having to strip naked while standing on top of this very table to the minute the nurse finally left you to change into the clothes Hope had brought you. If you cried any more that night, you thought you'd go insane. The sticky sensation of dried tears on your swollen face was bad enough. 

Her ministrations didn't help. After you continued to sit motionless and wordless with her, Hope kissed you on the top of your head and began to work the knots from your hair with her perfectly manicured fingernails. You almost wish she'd leave instead. Almost. Your vision swam before you, but still you couldn't _ask_ her to leave. Once she'd left, you'd be all alone. 

"You told me Thor was out of town this weekend, right?" Hope seemed to know you couldn't answer, because she moved one without confirmation: "I can take you straight from here to my dad's house. You can stay there until Thor comes home. Or you can come to Scott's place with me. Cassie's on vacation with her mom and step-dad, so you can have her room all to yourself. She wouldn't mind. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable, all right?" 

What Hope wanted was for you to make a decision, but how could you when all your mental power was focused on failing to stop yourself from trembling? Neither of her options sounded all that great. You didn't like the idea of ghosting around Scott's home for the weekend. Hank, though...Hank would be worse. He'd be so angry, and you were in no condition to tell him off. Maybe you could just go back to _your_ house... 

No, you couldn't. Just bringing to mind your front walk made your stomach heave. There was nothing left in it for you to throw up after all the times you already had. You didn't want to see what might come out of your body next. Thankfully, you were spared having to think of this longer by a second rap at the door. Hope had you held close enough to her that you couldn't jump this time. 

The door then opened just enough for your nurse to pop her familiar blonde head through the crack. "Miss Van Dyne?" 

"Yes? May I help you?" Hope said, without letting you go. 

"May I see you outside for a minute? There's...a situation going on out here." 

You didn't miss that the nurse's dark eyes slid toward you upon the word "situation." Neither, it seemed, did Hope. 

"Of course." 

With that, she hopped with impressive grace off the table and to the floor. She got all the way to the nurse before she turned back around. 

"I'll be right back," she promised. " _Don't_ go anywhere." 

As though she had to warn you. The second she and the nurse shut you inside the room, you could do nothing more than bring your knees up to your chest, wrap your arms around them, and find a place on the floor to stare at it with your one good eye. Maybe you'd just never leave this very table. No other place on earth seemed any safer. 

How had Kevin found you _here_? Had he tracked you somehow? Called around until he found where you'd gone? Waited down the street with his car off until you pulled yourself together enough to drive away? This wasn't even the hospital nearest to your home! Was he going to find you wherever you went from here on out? 

A sudden surge of dizziness made you realize that you were hyperventilating, and not for the first time that night. You forced yourself to inhale and exhale slowly as the medical staff had suggested you do. As you did, you tried to think _calming_ thoughts. What could Kevin do to you here in public? Nothing. And he could do even less with Hope around. She'd never liked him any more than he liked her. After tonight, he could count himself _lucky_ if all she did to him was knee him in the groin as you'd planned to do. He could never _ever_ lay a hand on _her_. 

Hope _had_ been gone for an awfully long time, though. Then again, maybe not. You felt a little detached from time. After Kevin finished—no. Moaning, you rolled over onto your side. All you wanted was a shower—one made of acid that would melt your skin off your bones. Maybe you _should_ go stay with Hank. If anyone out there had a shower like that, it would be him. Then again, if you stayed with Hank, you'd have to tell him what had happened. You weren't too sure you could do that. While he was far from being a father figure in your life, he had been your boss for several years and adult you'd grown up being taught to respect. Maybe you ought to tell him anyway. He'd find out in the end. Everyone would. Better he hear the truth from you through some slip up on Scott's part, or one of Scott's friends. 

Better bite the bullet, then. Find your phone. Get the word out. No sooner had you uncurled from yourself enough to start searching the room for your purse, however, then did you hear a great commotion coming from outside your room: two voices, one male, one female, both angry. Whatever they were saying, they were too far still for you to understand their words through the closed door. You could , nonetheless tell that the argument was growing closer, and soon it did draw near enough for you to hear: 

"I don't see why you had to come!" said the woman. 

"And I don't see why you would assume I shouldn't!" said the man. 

"Both of you be quiet," someone else, also female, said sharply. She must have been a nurse, because she went on to say, "or I'll have security come escort you out of the building. Don't test me." 

The quarreling man and woman murmured something. An apology? They'd grown too quiet to hear again. Maybe they had moved on. _There_ was your purse, sitting atop a hard plastic chair near the flimsy curtain you'd got to go behind to change into your clean clothes. You hopped up to grab it—only then the doorknob across the room rattled. Before you could do anything more than throw yourself behind the bed, the door opened. 

"Just be gentle, all right? Can you manage that?" Hope's voice came inside, along with the distant sounds of nearby hospital staff and machines. Those sounds disappeared quickly with another _click_ of the door closing. 

"I do not need you to tell me how to handle this," a deep male voice rumbled. A distinct pause followed this statement. "Especially as there is no one here to be gentle _with_." 

While you remained frozen in place, you heard Hope sigh sharply. Once more she clipped across the tile. Some part of you realized how stupid you were to be lurking behind a piece of furniture like this. The rest of you didn't care—not until you saw Hope peer around the corner and spot you there, anyway. 

"[Name]? Are you okay?" 

Obviously, you were not. Anyone your age acting like a frightened toddler was not okay. She moved her head to the side in a gesture of understanding. Then she straightened and called over to the man, "She's over here. No. Don't come any closer." 

"But—" 

"Do _not_ question me." 

_There_ was the Hope you knew. All traces of her brusque demeanor vanished when she turned back to you, though. 

"You have a visitor," she said kindly. 

That much you'd worked out for yourself. You even had a good idea of who your visitor was; you just...didn't want to face them. Not yet. "Visitor?" you asked. 

She nodded. "Thor came to see you. I guess Scott called him. I didn't tell him anything," she added quickly, "but I did tell him you were at the hospital. I guess Scott wanted Thor to know. I'm sorry." 

"There is nothing to apologize for. I think I ought to be notified when some accident has befallen the one I love. [Name]? Are you over there?" 

"What did I just _say_?" Hope snapped at him. 

"I have come no closer." 

"Oh my _God_. [Name], I'll tell Scott off later. I promise. Do you want me to send Thor away?" 

There was no doubt in your mind that Hope would do it. She didn't need access to any Pym Particles to kick anyone's ass—Thor's included—as far away from here as you asked her to. Without saying anything of the sort, she'd made it very clear that she would. You were tempted to take her up on it. Thor didn't need to see you like this. He _couldn't_ see you like this. Would it be so awful to ask him to go away? 

"[Name]," he said. 

When he said your name like that, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You trusted Hope when she said that she hadn't told Scott just why she'd had to drive all the way out to a distant hospital in the middle of the night. Given how hysterical you'd been when you'd called her about the clothes, she might not have had any clue herself. That Thor was here now was an unavoidable fact, and you knew him very well. Refusing to see him would only cause him and Hope to be at a standoff until you allowed him to. If you made him go back to Manhattan, he would only worry, and that would make all of his friends worry about you, too. The _last_ thing you wanted was for Tony Stark to find out what had gone on that night—or Captain America or Black Widow or any of the rest. What would they think of you once they knew the truth? 

Somehow Hope caught the minuscule shake of your head. Sending Thor away would not only simply delay the inevitable, but it would hurt his feelings, too. You swallowed. It made your throat burn. The action didn't do much to steel you either. Balling your hands into fists tightly enough to press crescent moons into your palms, you forced yourself to stand up, slowly, inch by meager inch, until your spine was straight and you could see Thor standing by the closed exam room door. 

His jaw tightened as he took in your disheveled appearance. Hope hadn't completely managed to smooth your hair, but that wasn't the worst of it. You could only _feel_ what Thor saw: an eye bruised and swollen into a thin slit, a busted lip, blood caked beneath your nose. Thank god he couldn't see anything lower than that; your face was enough to make his go pale with rage. Normally when he wore similar casual "Midgardian" clothing he didn't look as dangerous as he did just then. 

"Who did this to you?" he asked with barely concealed fury. 

Hope spoke up without giving you any chance to answer: "Kevin Davis." Her anger, too, was palpable. 

"Kev—" Thor's eyes went entirely white as static filled the room. "I will kill him. With my own hands, I will do it." 

"No." 

Both Hope and Thor looked at you with obvious alarm. The latter's eyes returned to their usual shade of blue. You couldn't exactly blame the two of them for worrying when you sounded as shrill as you did. You'd also started to shake hard enough that they could probably see it. _Why_ did they have to keep this room so damn _cold_? 

"[Name]?" Thor asked. 

You gulped again, ignoring the pain. "You can't go all Thunder God in here. There's delicate machinery. And I don't want—I don't want you to _kill_ anybody." 

"Good thinking. Better to handle this _properly_ with legal action," Hope said. 

"No!" 

"But—" 

"I said no! No fighting. No lawsuits. All I want is for this night to be _over_." Your voice broke on the last word. Already you knew that this night would never really be over. Yet another argument between your best friend and your boyfriend just wasn't something you could handle. If only one more thing went wrong, you were going to shatter. Not even Hope would be able to pick up the pieces. 

The two of them glanced at one another, worried, but seemed to come to an unspoken agreement to be civil for your sake. 

"Okay, okay," Hope said, clearly trying to be soothing. You realized only when she stepped close enough to hold your shoulder that you'd started to cry again. "Did you decide where you want me to take you for the night?" 

" _I_ will do the taking, if there is any taking to do," said Thor. 

" _You_ are supposed to be in Manhattan. What good is it going to do for you to take her home and then _leave_?" 

"I have no intention of going anywhere. I already told the Avengers not to expect my return this night or indeed anytime soon." 

"How _dare_ you assume she wants to be anywhere near you after this!" 

"After _what_?" he asked. "No one has told me what has happened. I know only that the woman I love looks as though the Hulk spotted her during one of his nastier moods. I will not pry," he added stonily, when Hope opened her mouth, "and of course if [Name] does not want to go home or to be anywhere near me, I will not force her hand. What I will _not_ have is you speaking for her." 

What he said made sense—or would have, if you had been in any condition to make your own decisions. Hope seemed to think so too. She blinked, but no longer pressed the issue. You were grateful for this. Your head felt seconds from splitting in two, and she and Thor could get awfully loud about their quarrels. 

"What do you want to do, [Name]? If you change your mind, I'll come get you anywhere anytime," she said. 

"I'll...I'll go home with Thor." At least doing that would land you with one person to deal with, as opposed to the three you'd get staying with Hank or Hope. "I just—I just want to get away from here." 

Though she didn't look entirely convinced your choice was yours, she did step out of the space between you and your boyfriend. He held out a hand. For a moment—a moment long enough to be noticed—you didn't take it. You just _stared_ at the enormous thing. Just a few hours ago— 

No. This was Thor. Thor loved you. Thor had never hurt you. Thor would _never_ hurt you. 

But you'd thought that about Kevin, too. 

This terrifying thought threatened to overwhelm you. A scream threatened to crawl up your throat, so you thrust your hand into Thor's before it could. Whether he had been telling the truth about not knowing the details of your injury or simply wished to spare your feelings, the grip he held you with remained ginger. He did not attempt to embrace you or pull you closer, either. 

"Thanks for coming tonight on such short notice, Hope," you said, unable to look her in the eye. 

"Yes," Thor agreed. "I thank you for your kindness. You have been a great friend to [Name]. Please also give my regards to Scott for informing me of her location." 

Only the briefest flicker on her face betrayed her feelings about Scott's involvement. To her credit, she said nothing more on the matter. She just looked at you and said, "I'll come by tomorrow around lunch to check on you." 

You knew she just wanted to talk more about bringing charges against Kevin. You also knew there was nothing you could say or do to convince her to drop the subject. All you offered her was a silent nod. Then you allowed Thor to accompany you out of the hospital and to your waiting car. His eyes remained on you all the long way home, but he asked you no questions. In fact, he said nothing at all. This was an enormous relief. If he had said something, even something entirely related to this endless nightmare, you weren't so sure you'd have been able to hold yourself together long enough to avoid crashing the car.


	3. Finding out

Hank Pym's old house sat quietly on an equally quiet street. Your parents had dropped you off on its steps frequently during your childhood, be it for your own sleepovers with Hope or their meetings with her parents. Coming up the walk, one would never have any real idea of what could be found beyond the front door. Whatever it was was never as quiet as it looked; noise was just the Pyms' style. Everyone that resided there made a ruckus, and you hadn't always appreciated that when you had homework to do or secrets to whisper to your closest friend. Then Janet died and everything changed. You were not invited over so often after that. The handful of times you were wound up as subdued, angry affairs where neither Hank nor Hope had much to say to you or to each other. 

Hope's bedroom had transformed drastically in the intervening years. Of course it had. She had stripped it bear herself the summer before her last year at boarding school. Even now that she had reconciled with her father, the room looked just as impersonal as most of the house. One window overlooked the empty street, and it at that window that you stood now as an adult. You couldn't help wishing then for a little bit of the noise you'd hated as a child or the clutter Hope had loved. Something like that could have gone a long way in confirming you really had once been as innocent as you thought you'd been so long ago. 

A soft knock on the wall outside the room startled you from these well-worn thoughts. Reluctantly, you turned to find Hope herself standing in the doorway. Seeing her back in this house remained more than a little odd. Before she went back to school for the last time, she'd sworn to you that she would never again return to her father's home, and she was typically very fastidious about keeping her promises. 

When you didn't greet her, she moved forward. "I came to check on you. It's been a couple of hours since you got here, and you haven't come downstairs..." Her eyes fell upon the unopened suitcase sitting atop the narrow bed that used to belong to her. "I see you haven't bothered to unpack." 

"I was just getting reacquainted with the place," you said. "Remember when I tried to pierce your ears in here? I thought Hank would faint when he saw the blood. There wasn't even very much, all things considered." 

Such a lie could not fool Hope. She looked from the suitcase to your face, appeared to really think about what she wanted to say, then asked: 

"[Name], do you want to go home?" 

"No!" you said quickly. 

"Really? Because if you'd be more comfortable there—" 

"I wouldn't be more comfortable staying there alone." 

"Then I'll come with you. I'll bring the Wasp suit. Dad didn't insist Mom take that with them. We'll make it a girls' weekend out. It'll be fun." 

"You already promised your parents you'd look after _this_ place while they're on their second honeymoon." 

"So? Scott can stay here. He won't mind." 

"Sure. Your dad would _love_ that. Seriously, Hope," you added when your eye roll did not get her to relax, "I'm fine. I appreciate you guys letting me crash here while Thor's handling things in Asgard." 

Another minute or so of intense scrutiny on her part seemed to persuade her that pressing the matter would do her no good. She relented with a sigh. "Well, if you change your mind at all, just let me know. Thor could be gone for a while on this one. My offer stands." 

You scoffed, stepping away to fiddle with the zipper on your suitcase so you wouldn't have to look her in the eye any longer. "Right. Because on top of everything else you're doing for me, I really want to burden you with _babysitting_ duty." 

"I'm not _just_ offering to do this for you," Hope insisted, "or Thor before you suggest that. It makes _me_ feel better to know where you are." 

"Kevin's not going to come after me. I haven't heard from him at all since that night." 

"Because he knows if he comes anywhere near you, I'll use my suit to punch off his dick." 

Was that the reason? You doubted it. Hope could not be with you all the time, nor could she ask her parents or Scott to stay on your tail whenever she couldn't. They all had work to do, and Kevin knew it. More likely he had just gotten what he wanted. Now that he had shown you who was boss, he could leave you as damaged goods to the boyfriend he was so convinced you'd left him for. A hard lump formed in your throat at this thought so that your voice sounded strangled when you tried to change the subject: 

"So, how are _you_ doing?" 

"I'm fine," Hope answered gamely. "Mom and Dad have been so busy with each other that I'm getting to go solo a lot more often. It's been nice. I really think Dad's starting to trust me." 

"You two are still good, then?" 

"Well, you know my dad. Things are never _perfect_ , but yeah. Good. He's mellowed out a lot since Mom came back." 

"And everything is going well with her? It's not weird or anything?" 

Hope chuckled. "No, it's definitely weird. For all of us. But I'll take weird over missing her any day. She's still going to therapy, and it seems to be helping her a lot. Speaking of, her doctor is great. I asked her to pick up her card last time she went to a session, and I thought—" 

"Hope. Don't," you said. 

"I'm serious, [Name]." 

"So am I. I don't _need_ that kind of help. I wasn't stuck in a realm beyond human comprehension of several decades, okay?" 

"I think therapy is good for a _little_ more than situations like Mom's." 

"No. I'm not going. End of discussion." 

You continued to play with the zipper for a few minutes after that. Opening the suitcase while Hope was in the room was out of the question. What if she saw what you'd hidden in there? What if _you_ saw what you'd hidden in there? Doing so had, admittedly, not been your brightest idea, because now you knew you would _never_ open the damn thing, and she was bound to notice you weren't brushing your teeth in a couple of days. Once she left, maybe you could work up the courage to pull out a few odds and ends, but unfortunately she seemed determined to stay on you like ants in a trap that afternoon. 

"Okay. Fine," she said. "It's your decision, just like not pressing charges against that Kevin was your decision. I can't _force_ you to do anything. You need to know something, though, [Name], and I wouldn't say this unless you were my very best friend and I didn't love you: You haven’t doing so well the past two weeks. Even Thor's noticed." 

"I haven't _been_ doing well since Kevin came to visit. This isn't anything new." 

"Yes, it is." 

A lump shoved its rough way into your throat at the same time your eyes began to burn. "I've been through something horrible, Hope. The man who did it to me is still out there, and my boyfriend is busy up in space. I think I've earned the right to not be doing very well right now." 

"I agree completely." 

Despite her words, she did not sound at all conciliatory. When you turned back to her, she had her arms over her chest and her chin thrust out. The latter was a warning sign; she only ever did that when she was seconds away from ridiculing something particularly idiotic. Usually that was Scott, but Scott was still tinkering with the Ant-Man suit in Hank's lab. Hope obviously was _not_ buying your bluff. 

"If Kevin being out of jail is what's bothering you so much, all right. Let's fix it. I'll get you the best lawyer in the state. We'll _bury_ him so deep he'll never see the sun again. Is that what you want?" 

You and Hope had been over and over this subject—and over and over and over again. She knew what you wanted: to move on. In no universe could you imagine Kevin pleading guilty to a rape charge. A lengthy trial would do the opposite of allow you to get on with your life. Then again, so would the actual issue your best friend had accidentally touched upon. 

In the face of the tears streaming quietly down your cheeks, she unraveled. Hope lifted a hand to her forehead, shook her head, and walked over to hold you in a loose embrace. You did your best not to snort and get snot all over her expensive top. 

"I'm sorry. That was out of line," she said, and you were surprised by the huskiness in _her_ voice. "I just hate seeing you like this. If I could just do _something_ to help you..." 

"You can't. Not with this. Putting Kevin away—that can't fix what's going on." 

Slowly, she pulled far enough away from you to look you in the eye, though not far enough away to let you go. "What is 'this?'" 

It was too late. You'd give Hope just enough to latch onto. There was no chance she would let it go, and you had no idea how long you'd be staying at the Pyms' house while Thor was away. Eventually she would question you while your guard was down, maybe even in front of her dad or someone else you didn't want to discuss your life in front of. She wouldn't have long to find out if your suspicions were correct anyway. Perhaps now was the best time to tell her the truth. 

The truth. Something even you weren't ready for. A shudder pressed its way up your spine, causing Hope to gently rub your back. You took a deep breath before she could grow impatient. 

"You're right. I really haven't been feeling well the past couple of weeks," you said. 

"How so?" Hope asked. 

"I...I...I've been really bloated. Can't fit in my favorite pair of jeans most of the time. And I'm not throwing up, but I _feel_ like I'm going to all the time. And I...and I...and I..." Fresh tears spilled over your lower lids, but you forced yourself to go in a whisper, "I missed my last period." 

The hand Hope had on your back froze in place. Other than that, Hope was far too professional to let any other outward sign of her shock show. You'd known her most of your life, though. She couldn't entirely hide the horror in her green eyes from you. 

"How long?" she asked levelly. 

You winced. 

"How long, [Name]?" she pressed. Now Hope didn't sound so level. 

"Three weeks." 

"And Kevin was here..." 

"About two weeks before that." 

"Have you gone to see a doctor?" 

"No." 

"[Name]!" 

"Why should I?" your burst out, tearing yourself free from Hope's grip. "I don't _want_ to know! I _can't_ know! Do you have any idea what would happen if it turned out I was...I was..." 

"Pregnant?" Hope supplied softly. 

Your hand instinctively clutched at your stomach. "Thor's been so kind to me, Hope. He's given me so much space. He takes care of me whenever he has time off, and I...I can't even look at him anymore. If it turns out that I'm p-p- _pregnant_ , he'll leave. He has to leave. Any sane man would." 

"Oh, [Name]." Something warm wrapped around your other hand: Hope taking it to pull you down with her to sit on the edge of the mattress. "This isn't something you can apply Schrodinger's Cat to. You have to know for sure whether it's dead or alive." 

"Who has a cat now? And why can't we tell for sure if it's dead?" asked a new voice—Scott's as he wandered into the bedroom with his hands in his front pockets. 

You couldn't see his face very well, what with all the crying obscuring your vision, but he must have been able to see your face just fine. Not a minute after he'd asked about dead pets, he rushed toward where you and Hope were seated. 

"Oh, no, [Name]!" he said. "What's wrong? Is it your cat that's dead? Is Hope being mean about it?" 

He got too close—just one step. If he drew any nearer, he would be able to touch you. You flinched away with an involuntary gasp. Only Hope quickly grabbing your shoulders from behind kept you from lurching around further in a blind panic. 

"There _is_ no cat," Hope snapped. "Why don't you go make some tea? That always seems to be your answer whenever you barge in somewhere you aren't wanted." 

"Right! Tea! I can make tea. You know what, I bet I can find some snacks, too. That will cheer us all—" 

"Just _go_!" 

"Going!" Scott said, and, with nothing more than a lingering look of pity in your direction, he disappeared through the open door. His footsteps faded quickly down the stairs. The hands that held you in your place did not loosen until you and their owner could be sure Scott had made it to the first floor. 

"Sorry about that," Hope said. "That man. Honestly, sometimes I don't know _what_ my dad sees in him." 

You took the pause presented by this change of subject as an opportunity to dry your face with your forearm. "If you hate Scott so much, why are you dating him?" 

"I don't hate Scott. Here," she added, passing you a tissue from the box on the bedside table. 

"Thanks. You don't act like you like Scott much. Most of the time it sounds like you think he's an idiot." 

"That's because he _is_ an idiot. It's the fact that he's _my_ idiot that makes all the difference. It's hard to explain," she said. "He's very sweet. Nothing like the guys I used to date. The closest thing I've had to a boyfriend since college was..." 

"Darren." 

Hope let out a humorless chuckle. "Yeah. We weren't even really dating, and just look how _that_ turned out. I haven't really figured out how to be _myself_ with Scott yet. He's okay with that, though. He already loves me. That doesn't mean I shouldn't _apologize_ when I treat him like I just did." 

"So you're telling me your relationship involves a lot of apologies." 

"Shut up." Her following laugh had real affection in it, as did the light shove she gave you. "It probably doesn't have nearly _enough_ apologies. What I mean is that I'm not worried that he's going to break up with me before I work up the nerve to say I'm sorry. He loves me too much to break up with me over something silly...which is _exactly_ how Thor feels about _you_." 

Trust Hope to twist her heartwarming speech right back around to you. You blinked at her over your sodden Kleenex. "How do you know that?" 

"Because whenever he's away from home, he calls you every single night just to hear your voice—and if you won't answer, he calls _me_ to make sure you're okay. Because he looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and he's seen hundreds of years' worth of things. Because when they think no one is around to listen, Thor and Scott have arguments over which of us is the better girlfriend, and I think you've won most of those arguments, too." 

"I didn't think you liked Thor very much." 

"How am I supposed to like the man that's stealing my best friend away from me?" She gave you a one-armed squeezed when you offered her a feeble smile. "Dad already did that for a decade or so. I just wanted you all to myself for a little while." 

"Well, you might still get that wish." 

"Thor isn't going to leave you. Not if he loves you half as much as I do—or if he wants his brain to remain inside his skull." 

You muffled a burbled laugh against her shoulder. Hope clasped you tighter before allowing you to pull away with a sniff. 

"Being pregnant with another man's child, though. That's different than being...well, than being a little waspish." 

She groaned. 

"It _is_. And it can't be Thor's baby, Hope. I did the math." 

"He should know this isn't your fault." 

"If I hadn't wanted to see Kevin again so badly, this never would have happened. I could have told him no when he called about dinner, or—or I could have asked him to meet somewhere public! There's a million things I could have done to—" 

"It is _not_ your fault." Hope held your face between her palms, something she hadn't done since you both were six. "Don't you dare let yourself think that. Kevin is scum, all right? He's always been scum. I admit that I didn't think he was _this_ scummy when we were kids, but my point remains. None of this is on you, [Name]. You wanted to give him the chance to mend bridges." 

"But—" 

"No buts. Anyway, if you're pregnant, who says you have to keep the baby? Who says you even have to _have_ it?" 

You stiffened as Hope let her hands drop back to the comforter. She didn't seem to notice what affect her words had on you. _You didn't have to have the baby._ Two weeks you'd spent in terror, avoiding Thor before his trip, avoiding think about your missed period, avoiding anything that might have reminded you that sex—wanted or not—could have life-altering consequences. All that time, you'd never thought that you didn't have to have the baby. 

Hope shot you an appraising look when you continued to remain motionless beside her. 

"You don't have to make any decisions right now," she said. "The truth is that you might not have to _any_ decision about this. _That's_ what you need to find out: If there's any decision here to make at all." 

You nodded, unable to speak around the heart now pounding in your throat. 

Hope rose to her feet. "Good. I'll go buy you a test right away. Will you be all right here alone with Scott for a little while?" 

A shake of the head was your answer that time. 

"Okay. Do you want to come with me, then?" 

"N-No!" The effort it took to say that single word _hurt_. "No. I—There's no reason for you to go. I have a test. It's in my suitcase." 

Another silence fell, this one spent with you staring at the wood floor. You knew what Hope was thinking about: What a coward you were. Some part of you knew what needed to be done; why else would you have gone to the store, bought the pregnancy test, and dragged it all the way to Hank's house to begin with? Bringing yourself to take it was somehow a horse of an entirely different color. If your best friend had not caught you out so quickly, you would have been content to spend your entire stay with her in the same set of clothes just to prevent yourself from opening your suitcase and risking a look at that box. 

Hope moved first. You heard her heels click once each beneath her. After that came a soft _zip_ as she opened your bag, next a rustling as she dug through the clothes haphazardly thrown inside, then...nothing until she put a light hand on your shoulder. 

"It doesn't matter if the cat is dead or alive, you know. If you don't check to see if needs food or water, it will die anyway," she said. "[Name]. You're the cat." 

That was one more thing she was right about. Putting off the inevitable would only make things worse. You already suspected your nausea had more to do with guilt and stress than pregnancy symptoms; most women in your family didn't suffer much from morning sickness. Going on about your life without knowing for sure would be possible, but you would kill yourself with worry without a course of action to follow. 

"Okay." 

How you managed to sound so firm was beyond even you. Either way, you didn't want to waste your momentum saying anything more. You simply stood up and allowed Hope to place the box in your hands. 

"I'll be right here. Scott should have the tea done by then, too," she assured you. 

Wordlessly, you left the bedroom. The hall leading to the landing's bathroom seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. By the time you made it to the narrow washroom, your breath had started hitching in your chest again. So great was the trembling in your hands that opening the box took longer than your walk. It was a simple matter after that to pee on the stick and wait... 

...and wait...and wait...and wait...and wait as the nausea rose like the tide inside you, threatening to expunge your meager breakfast at any moment. So heavy did the weight of anticipation grow that you bent beneath it. You leapt off the toilet lid as though it had grown suddenly hot. Not enough time had passed for your test to generate any result one way or the other, but you could wait on your own no longer. Stick in hand, you skittered back down the endless hall to the bedroom. 

Hope stood just where you had left her. "Well?" she asked the second you entered. 

You tossed the test on top of the wadded up clothes resting in your bag. They probably weren't clean anyway; laundry had not been a high priority for you as of late. When your insides felt dirty no matter how many showers you took, why bother taking care of anything else? A shrug was the only answer you offered Hope before you walked back to the window. The street below was still empty. Five weeks had passed and still you kept expecting to see Kevin's car idling at every corner. 

"I wonder if I'm ever going to feel like I have control over my life again," you sighed. 

"Of course you will," said Hope. 

"Then why do I feel so lost?" 

"Like you said, you've been through a traumatic experience." 

"So have you—and Hank and your mom and _Scott_ , for crying out loud! Why can't I just—pick up the pieces of myself and move on? Why can't I put myself together again?" 

"You have to give yourself more time." 

"What if I don't _have_ time, Hope?" 

"It's only been a little over a month, [Name]," she said gently. "Maybe you'd find it easier if you would let someone help you. Thor wants to. _I_ want to. Anything you need, I'll be there. Dad, too. I know you're scared of what he'll do when he finds out the truth, but he wouldn't blame you for what happened. Kevin would be _lucky_ if my father only wanted to black his eye. And Mom..." 

"What good would that do me? I've already had three different offers for _that_." You dug the heel of your hand into one eye before you spun back to face her. "Still. I appreciate it. You've been so...Hope? Hope, what's wrong?" 

She did not answer. Her eyes were full of tears, and in her hand was your discarded pregnancy test. 

"Hope?" 

She shook her head, but the tears did not evaporate. 

" _Hope_. You're scaring me." 

"I—I'm sorry." 

Only on a handful of occasions before this had you seen your best friend so rattled—and every single one of those had to do with the loss of her mother. Hope didn't really have to explain. You already knew. Your heart rapidly sunk to your toes as she flipped the test over so that you could see its answer: a single pink plus sign, bright as a crimson "A." 

The entire world seemed to go mute around you. Hope's lips moved, but you couldn't hear a thing she said. No more whisper of the wind against the antique windowpanes; no more creak of the floorboard beneath Scott's feet downstairs. Then you let out a massive wail that allowed every shred of reality to come rushing back to you. 

She ran to your side immediately, casting the pregnancy test into a nearby bin without so much as a glance in its direction. Her well-toned arms wrapped around you. They anchored you to the present, but they could not sooth you entirely. You scrabbled at your stomach with your nails as though you could tear the fetus out of you all by yourself. A brief struggle ensued before Hope could interlace her fingers through yours and hold you in place. 

"[Name]. [Name]. It's okay. We're going to figure something out. It could be a false positive. We'll—" 

"Tea's ready!" Scott called cheerfully as he burst into the room. "I found some of your mom's favorite cookies, too. I didn't think she would mind if we—What's going on in here?" 

Hope twisted her neck toward him. It was all she could manage with you trying with every ounce of your strength to pry your hands loose. "Just put the tray on the bed, would you? We'll get to it in second." 

"Sure. Is there anything else I can do?" 

"Yes. Call New York. See if they can get in touch with Thor for us. Tell them it's urgent. If he can get away from whatever he's doing in Asgard, he needs to come home _now_." 

"Absolutely." 

Something rattled—the tea things being placed carefully on the mattress—before you heard Scott sprint away once more. 

"Scott?" Hope called after him. 

"Yeah?" 

"Thank you!" 

His reply was lost in your renewed sobs. Maybe Hope didn't answer his answer either. She murmured whatever empty consolations that she could think of in your ear, but not once did she loosen her grip, not until a long time passed and you slumped against her, unable to muster up the energy to fight any longer. This was your life now: unpleasant, uncomfortable, unbearable. For just one more night you wanted to be held. Just one more night you wanted to feel loved. And if she would give that to you, you could take her offering without complaint, just for one more night.


	4. Where Do We Go From Here?

Breakfast with Hope and Scott became a trying affair in the two weeks following your meltdown. Both wanted to do everything they could to keep you healthy and, if possible, happy. Doing so was a tall order. Most mornings involved a lot of forced smiles on their parts, and struggle to cram in seconds or even thirds of whipped cream-topped waffles on yours. Not wanting to worry them more than they already were, you did everything you could to keep _them_ happy in turn. You would have thought Janet and Hank's return would have put a stop to this difficult balancing act. Instead, their presence made it all the _more_ difficult, especially when the morning of their arrival found you wedged between Hank at the head of the table and Hope to your left. 

"So, Mom, I was thinking we might have a sparring session this afternoon," Hope said, buttering a biscuit. 

"That sounds lovely," Janet answered. "You'll have to give me some time to unpack, but—" 

"Hope, give your mother some space, please. We just got in three hours ago. She needs to rest," Hank put in. 

"I think I'm in the best position to decide what I'm up for today, darling." 

"Of course you are. I just don't want you overextending yourself." 

"I promise I'll only let Hope punch me for a little while." 

"That's all I ask." 

The two grasped hands, smiling in such a soppy matter that Hank looked about thirty years younger. 

"This is great," Scott, who was seated across from Hope, said around a mouthful of cereal. "I'm so happy you guys are reconnecting like this. It's really beautiful." 

All it took was the sound of his voice to snap Hank out of his stupor. He shot Scott's bowl a sour look as he went back to his own plate. "I don't even know what _you're_ still doing here, besides filling my pantry with garbage." 

"Cocoa Puffs are hardly garbage. They turn your milk chocolate, a flavor I notice your fridge is severely lacking. You need to learn live a little, Hank." 

"I think it's amazing," Janet said. She, too, had a bowl in front her instead of the eggs and pancakes Hope had made. "I can't believe I haven't tried this before." 

"Are you sure you don't want something else, Mom? Something...better for you?" Hope asked. 

"Honey, I spent long enough with any food at all. I'm way past worrying about calories at this point." 

"Right?" said Scott. 

Throughout this entire exchange, you hadn't said a single word. You kept your eyes glued to your untouched food. This quarrel was not your quarrel because this family was not your family. Keeping your mouth shut went a long way in keeping attention off of you. 

Unfortunately, Hank was no idiot. He caught your eye as he unfolded the newspaper that had been sitting at his elbow. Any hope you had that the stories inside said paper would be more interesting than your refusal to eat were dashed when he paused to point at you. 

"And _you_. Don't think I haven't noticed something is going on with _you._ " 

Your hand automatically jumped to your stomach. Thankfully Hank was not at a good angle to see this, nor that Hope grasped your free hand beneath the table. For a moment you couldn't come up with any answer. When you did, it was only a very lame: 

"What are you talking about, Hank?" 

Hank snorted. "Please. I've known you since you were in _diapers_. You think I can't tell when you're upset?" 

"Quit interrogating her, Dad," Hope sighed. 

"Interrogating her? I'm not _interrogating_ her. I'm asking her a question because I am _concerned_. I'd think you would be a little more so, considering [Name] looks like her cat died while we were gone." 

"You worry too much. [Name] isn't your daughter." 

"She's as good as! Ever since those parents of hers turned traitor and ran off to D.C.—" 

_Ding-Dong_. 

The Pym's doorbell cut across the rest of Hank's words. All of you shared a confused beat of silence before Janet asked: 

"Who could that be so early in the morning?" 

"Did you invite someone _else_ over to replace my perfectly good food?" Hank shot at Hope. 

Scott scooted his chair backward, already hastily wiping his hands on his napkin. "It's probably Luis. He texted last night about wanting to talk about some X-Con stuff." 

"Lovely!" Janet was already on her feet. "I'll let him in. I haven't had a chance to speak with any of your friends in ages. Just come join us when you're ready, Scott." 

"Great," Hank grumbled as his wife disappeared and Scott sank back into his chair. "Just what I need: Those three yahoos treating my house like their personal storehouse, too." 

"You know, Hank, I'd ask who peed in your cereal today, but you're not having cereal," said Scott. 

" _Maybe_ if I hadn't come into my home at three in the morning only to find my daughter half-naked in bed with her boyfriend, I could find it in my heart to be a little more pleasant." 

With Hank's attention successfully diverted, Hope seemed to feel she could speak to you a little more openly: 

"Are you done eating?" 

One look at your plate would tell her that you hadn't eaten more than a few bites of each item she'd made for you. Your insides squirmed with guilt. She'd been nice enough to cook you breakfast, but with her dad watching so carefully, no way were you being able to stomach anything more. Knowing Luis would soon be there didn't help. Not that he wasn't terribly nice—just that he also wasn't any degree of _subtle_. Without knowing how much of your circumstances Scott had hinted at to his friend, there was no way for you to tell how quickly Hank would put two and two together once Luis started talking. 

Miraculously, Hope didn't pressure you to continue eating that morning. She must have been thinking along the same lines you were—namely, getting you away from her father before disaster struck—because she let go of your hand, stood, and took your plate without you having to explain. 

"Here, I'll put this in the fridge for later," she said. "How about you go grab a jacket and we can go for a walk while Scott and Luis talk shop?" 

"Great idea," you said. 

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. We're not done here," Hank called as you headed for the door. 

"Yes, you are," Hope told him. 

Whatever Hank's retort, you didn't hear him after the door swung shut behind you. You scurried up the stairs to Hope's old bedroom without giving him a chance to come after you. One thing he and his daughter had in common: When they believed they were right about something, they just wouldn't let it go. 

Being in the room made you feel a little better. It had become yours at some point during your stay, or at least that was how everyone else referred to it. You were grateful for that; the Avengers had been unable to get in touch with Thor and there was no telling when he might be back if Heimdall had cause to leave his post again. Many of the occupied rooms of the house were on the lower floor, so you did not have to worry often about running into anyone by accident. Scott had even learned to knock before entering your quarters. Conversations usually drifted in there, too, which meant you never felt entirely alone. That morning, as you pulled on the only jacket you had brought from home, you could hear the faint sound of Janet's laughter as she spoke to a man who must have been Luis. 

Dressed for the weather, you rushed back to the stairs without another thought. Hope didn't like to be kept waiting. Letting her come look for you would be an invitation for Hank to do the same. Better for you to be ready for her...so long as Luis was willing to let you go if you got sucked into another one of his long stories. You felt safe enough to talk to him, at least. Staying here with Scott popping in and out all the time had helped you to overcome _some_ of your fear of men, if nothing else. Breakfast with Hank would have been impossible had you not regained a little of your courage. 

"[Name]!" 

Except you didn't think you had courage enough to face this. You skidded to a halt just a step or two from the base of the stairs. There standing next to Janet was a very tall man with long hair drawn up part way into a bun—definitely not Luis. If you had been paying any sort of attention to the low tenor of the voice before, you might have realized that _Thor_ had returned before he spotted you headed right for him. 

"Well, well," came Hope's voice from behind you, "look who _finally_ decided to show up." 

"Hope, dear, I'm sure that Thor has a good reason for not coming to visit sooner," Janet said. 

Hope smiled icily as she stepped around you. "Oh, I'm sure he does. Busy in Asgard?" 

"If by 'busy,' you mean dealing with my sibling's third resurrection and attempt at the throne in half a year, then, yes. I have been very busy," Thor said. You doubted he had even seen Hope's expression, because he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of you. 

"Isn't that convenient? Just leaving like usual to make Scott and I clean up _your_ mess." 

"Hope," you said softly, "it's okay. He—" 

"What the _hell_ is _he_ doing here?" 

What with Thor's sudden arrival, Scott had not been able to keep Hank distracted for long enough for you and Hope to escape the building. The two men burst into the foyer together. Scott had his teeth grit together in an expression of apology. Hank marched right up to Thor—who didn't exactly look _smaller_ when dressed like an Earth man—and jabbed a finger into his chest. 

"I thought I told you that _your_ kind isn't welcome here," Hank said. 

"Not this again," Janet sighed. 

This mild assault got Thor's attention enough for him to coolly shove the prodding hand away. "Dr. Pym, I assure you that my business in your home has nothing at all to do with the Avengers _or_ Tony Stark." 

"Business! What makes you think I care what business you're on?" Hank demanded. 

"Hank, let the thunder god speak," Scott said, but it was to no avail. 

"If you aren't here to harangue us into some dangerous adventure that could have been otherwise avoided if _one_ of you would keep track of Tony Stark's ego, you must be here because of [Name]. Like that's any better. I suppose _you're_ the one to blame for her drifting around here like she's lost her cat for the past two weeks!" 

"I am here in the hopes of relieving her. I have heard nothing of a cat. In fact, I was told the cause of her discomfort now has something to do with Kevin Davis." 

All hell broke loose after Thor's name-drop. You flushed in the face of Janet's gasp. Scott winced. Hope's hand latched hard around your elbow. And Hank? Hank turned the full brunt of his anger on you. 

"Kevin Davis?" he shouted. "You're telling me all of this is because you let _Kevin Davis_ back into your life? Good lord, [Name], I thought you were intelligent!" 

"That's enough, Dad," Hope said sternly. 

"It is not enough! The _one_ benefit to you bringing _this_ lout into our family is because at least he got you away from Kevin! What did that idiot want this time? Did you _give_ it to him?" 

"Do _not_ yell at [Name]," Thor put in. "She remains under my protection—" 

"Oh, because you're doing such a good job at that!" 

"Hank, stop. Let's give these two some space. Weren't you the one that was so worried about [Name] this morning?" Janet said. 

"Excellent idea," said Hope. 

Before you could speak a word in your own defense—not that you could think of a single one because Hank was _right_ —the hand on your elbow yanked you in the direction of the door. Somehow Hope must have managed to get ahold of Thor as well, because she practically threw you both out the front door at the exact same time. Through it you caught only a glimpse of Scott and Janet tugging Hank in the opposite direction before Hope pulled the door closed behind her. 

"So. Change of plans," she said. 

"It appears so," Thor grumbled. 

" _You_ take [Name] on her walk. [Name], you talk to Thor. _I'll_ go do some damage control with Dad." 

You knew what she meant by "talk to Thor." She clearly thought you'd used the two weeks of his absence to think up a way to tackle the subject of you being pregnant with your ex-boyfriend's baby. Typically your best friend had a better idea of your abilities. Your eyes went wide as they connected with hers, but Hope had no pity. 

"Better make it a _long_ walk," was all she said before she disappeared back inside the house. 

This left you and Thor alone together outside in January. A January in San Francisco, however, was not going to give you any real cold to distract yourself with. No breaths puffed out from between your lips to watch drift to the sky; no goosebumps rose across your skin. All you were capable of doing was staring at your boyfriend like a deer caught in the headlights. Had he always been that large? You didn't remember him being quite so large. 

"I take it that you had not yet explained the circumstances surrounding your stay here to Dr. Pym," Thor said. 

The awkward moment did not end with your quiet answer of, "No." 

"I am sorry, then. It was not my intention to reveal to him anything you had not yet chosen to reveal yourself." 

"It's...it's okay." 

"No. It is my desire to keep your secrets when you have them. Please accept my sincere apology." 

"Really. He was going to find out anyway." 

Why could you not bring your voice above a rasp? Thor's brow furrowed—over your inability to speak at a decent volume or the oddity of your statement, you didn't know. He did not choose to explain his expression. Instead, he gave himself a shake, exhaled, and extended one hand out to you. 

"Shall we go on our walk? I should hate for Hope to return and find us here, having ignored her explicit instructions. We do not," he added when you just gaped at the hand hanging in the air between you, "have to hold hands if doing so would bring you discomfort." 

He looked so sincere, gazing down at you with his calm blue eyes. Bile rose in the back of your throat when you risked a second look at Thor's hand. It was so...big, just like the rest of him. You knew from experience how easily it could envelop your own, or grip one side of your hips, or cup a single cheek. Yet all you could think of in that moment was another hand, another night, and how that hand had— 

You screwed up whatever courage you had left to you. Kevin had already taken so much from your life—years, health, sanity. Were you really about to stand by and sacrifice your relationship with the man you loved to Kevin, too? 

Before Thor could take your obvious reluctance as a no, you gingerly put your own hand inside his. The wide grin he shot you made you realize just how badly he must have wanted to hold any part of you since that drive home from the hospital. Your insides squirmed with guilt—but not fear, you were surprised to find. His hand was warm and strong and comforting as he laced his fingers through yours to lead you down the walk to the waiting street. 

"I do regret that I upset Dr. Pym by coming over. Each time I hope he will be more amicable toward me, and each time I do believe he grows less so," Thor said. 

You could not spend the entire walk in silence. Though it took great effort to yank your thoughts away from the place you and Thor were connected, you finally managed an answer about a block away from your starting position: "That's Hank for you. He's _really_ good at holding grudges." 

"Alas, the same can be said of Tony. The two of them could do such great and wonderful things if only they could find it themselves to work together rather than apart." 

"Howard burned Hank pretty badly back in the day." You tried to keep your eyes on the approaching street sign. That made things easier. "Hank hasn't helped by making every little thing a big deal. I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for either of them to come around if I were you." 

"Wise words as always, Love. I am grateful we are all on good terms with Scott, at least. Otherwise I would never have received your summons." 

So much for the naive assumption he _hadn't_ got those summons and was simply back in San Francisco because he lived there part-time. Could you think of an excuse that would convince him to give you more time before you explained yourself? You didn't get the chance to ask before, having come to an empty bus stop bench, Thor sat down and pulled you gently into the seat with him. He clasped your hand in both of his and kissed the exposed tips of your fingers. 

"I feared the worst when Heimdall brought me the news. I thought Kevin had come for you while my back was turned once more. Is that what happened?" 

This was it. You could always tell him yes. As Hope had pointed out, you did not have to carry this baby to term. Thor spent a lot of time in Manhattan. How hard would it have been to schedule an appointment during some weekend he was off saving the world? Things could go back to the way they were. He never had to know. 

You knew then and there you couldn't do it. Kevin had said that, hadn't he? That Thor never had to know? Did you really want to give Kevin that sanctification? Absolutely not. Someday you wanted to be able to look yourself in the eye in the mirror again, and making any more concessions to your ex-boyfriend would not allow you to do that. 

Evidently, your silence caused Thor to believe you did not want to tell him. He let go of your hand so that he could cup the side of your face instead. 

"If you merely wanted me here so that you could put an end to things between us, I will not stop you. Please do not believe that I would ever hurt you for any reason, let alone in retaliation." 

You wished for the hundredth time that morning that it wasn't so easy to make you cry. "I still love you, Thor. I never stopped. It's just been..." 

"Difficult." He nodded, smoothing some of your hair down. "I understand. But if you do not desire to break up with me, then I beg you to tell me the reason behind your call. Was I correct? Did Kevin try to hurt you again?" 

"No. I haven't seen him since that night." Except in your nightmares, and in every crowd when you dared to leave whatever residence you had. 

"Good. You called me for something, however. [Name], I made a vow to myself that I would never ask more of you than you were willing give me. Thus far I have kept that vow. Today I must break it. Please. Please tell me what errand you needed me for. If there is anything remaining to be done, I will do it. Nothing will ever make up for my absence the night you truly needed me—" 

"Thor. Stop. You sound like Hope." 

"I shall take the comparison as a compliment. Few Midgardians I have met can match her strength. But you are avoiding my question. Dr. Pym is correct in his assessment. You are not well, and as far as I know, we do not own a cat." 

That _almost_ made you laugh. Almost. Laughter. What a foreign concept. "No. No cats." 

"Then what? Will you not tell me? I confess that your call surprised me. I rather thought you no longer wanted to see me at all." 

"I...I know." You gulped. "I'm sorry I've been so awful." 

"Never awful, [Name]. Distant, perhaps, but that does not require an apology. My only wish is to understand what is going on." 

Maybe if you had had a modicum of Hope's strength, this would not have been so difficult. You squirmed on the bench; Thor shifted away. His warmth vanished, and you found yourself desperate for its return. Still the tears coursed down your cheeks, blurring him as though he was already walking away out of your life. 

"Thor. You—you've been really great. About all of this. Not just this. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Really. I know it's been hard and I've been—been so stupid." 

"You are far from stupid. And I would do all of it again, a thousand times over. I love you, [Name]." 

"You won't after I tell you why I needed you to come back from Asgard." 

"Impossible. There is no 'truth' that could put a stop to my feelings for you." 

Rip the bandage off. Take the plunge. Breathe, before you pass out. All this you told yourself. Still it was not enough. Your deep inhale made your chest ache, but you knew there was no more putting things off. You did your best to blink away the excess moisture, searching all the while for one of Thor's hand. You found one and gripped at it as though it were a swiftly retreating lifeboat. 

"I'm pregnant, Thor." 

His eyes went wide. 

"It's—it's not your baby. It can't be. Kevin must have—when we—he wasn't wearing a....I _swear_ I didn't want this. I would never—I _could_ never—" 

Then you dissolved into tears too hysteric to allow you to finish your fractured speech. The hand in yours did not retreat, but neither did it move. All its heat seemed to have vanished. You didn't just cry that afternoon. You bawled in a way you hadn't allowed yourself since your drive to the hospital. Who cared if anyone saw you there sobbing alone in the watery sunlight? 

Only you were not alone. Slowly, the hand in yours moved, but it never moved entirely away from you. It traveled up your arm to your shoulder. Thor's other hand joined its brother on your opposite arm. Before you could fully register that he had not immediately jumped up and called for a one-way trip to Manhattan, he pulled you against his firm chest, wrapping his arms around you, cradling you, rocking you right out there in the open. 

He pressed a firm kiss to the top of your head. This, more than anything, was what caused you to realize he had not left. His presence did not entirely quiet your continued hiccups and attempts to stifle your own sobs, but it did muffle them somewhat. 

"I am sorry, [Name]. No. 'Sorry' is an inadequate word. My heart breaks for you. But why would you think that this news would put an end to my desire to be with you?" 

Pressed as you were up against him, you felt his deep voice more than heard it. You shuddered a little, pushing your face into him as far as it would go to answer in a muffled voice, "Didn't you hear me? I'm pregnant. With another man's baby." 

"You had no choice in the matter." 

"I had plenty of choices. I could have refused to see Kevin, for one." 

"Perhaps if you had invited him over with the express purpose of sleeping with him, I would feel differently. You did not. You could not. I saw you that night, remember? And you did not have the look of a woman who had accepted someone else's advantages. That you are with child because of one man's cruelty is no fault of your own, and I will _not_ have you believing that it is." 

The tears now pouring down your face were silent. Thor's shirt had been thoroughly soaked, yet you wouldn't have minded staying right there sitting just like that for the rest of your life. At least you felt safe there. Then he shifted away so that he could look you in the eye. 

"[Name], you must know that I will support you in this. You will never need to rely on that disgrace of a man. Do I make myself clear?" 

He did, but you found yourself unable to respond. 

Thor brushed some hair from your face with such care that you didn't flinch away from his touch. "When I say I will support you, I mean that no matter what you choose. Keep the baby or do not as you desire. If keeping it will please you, I will gladly raise the child as my own." 

"Oh!" Something about that offer made your face heat up all over again. "I don't know about keeping it." 

"Then you plan to give it away?" 

"Yes. No. I don't know." 

"There are not many options left other than those two," he said. 

"I know. You're right. Hope pointed out that I...I didn't _have_ to have it." 

He did not balk at the suggestion. "Is that what you want?" 

"Maybe. No? I don't think so. I haven't made up my mind yet." 

"You will inform me when you have?" 

"Of course." 

"I am pleased to hear it. Just know that I am here for you as long as you will agree to have me at your side." 

"I always want you here, Thor," you murmured. "Even when I don't act like it. Especially when I don't act like it. I love you." 

Your eyes met his. Somehow you found the strength to keep your gaze up. He smiled before bending his head to kiss you swiftly on his mouth. No chance to return his affection was offered to you, for as soon as the act was done, Thor bounced to his feet with a clap of his hands. 

"Well, then. Now that that has been settled, what say you we return to Pym Place? If I keep you much longer, Dr. Pym is likely to come searching for you, and Tony has told me not to go picking fights with him in public places. The news pieces give Tony some ailment he calls 'PR headaches.'" 

If only things could be wrapped up so easily. What Thor suggested would mean facing Hank. By now, he and Janet would know the truth. Your fingers froze around the edge of the bench you had gripped to push yourself up, leaving you stooped awkwardly a mere inch above the bus stop's surface. 

"Or," Thor said slowly, "you could wait outside in the yard while I gather your things from your room. We can go home together as soon as it is done." 

You sighed as you wrenched yourself into a standing position. "Hank will never forgive me if I don't give him a chance to apologize. Let's just get this over with." 

This time, you took Thor's hand of your own volition. He gave it a brief squeeze while shooting you one of his most radiant smiles. You made a brave stab at leading the both of you back up the block. Did you have any answers to your predicament? No. Did you have any answers to the more immediate questions Hank was sure to lodge at you the second you stepped inside his house? No again. What you did have was your boyfriend's support and love, and for the time being, that was enough to keep the shattered pieces of your being glued together.


	5. Starting to Show

Two weeks into your second trimester, a miracle occurred. Endless days spent too tired to do more than nap on the couch came to a sudden an end one sparkling April morning. It was not the sort of miracle that you prayed for, nor did your exhaustion dissipate entirely, but you weren't about to let the rare opportunity for activity to get away from you. You hustled out to the front yard to do some gardening before this bout of energy could vanish once again. 

This year's garden doubtless would not be good as the one you typically put so much time and care into. Your gynecologist had warned you at your last appointment that a woman's second trimester was often their favorite for a reason—but you tried not to think very hard about that, or about the looming decision of what to _do_ with the baby while you worked on preparing for planting as the sun made its slow way up the sky. 

"[Name]." 

A hand on your shoulder brought you out of your trance. With your fingers still half-buried in the cold, moist earth just recently exposed to warm spring air, you turned your head to look at Thor. His presence did not surprise you; he had insisted on coming out to enjoy the weather as well. Words could not express the relief you felt upon his offer, so you had not expressed it. He was too kind to outright say _why_ he wanted to sit against the single tree and watch you. According to him, seeing the love of his life doing work she loved brought him great joy, but you knew he knew more about your anxiety than he let on. 

"Is there something wrong?" you asked. 

Thor shook his head. "Not at all. I just thought I'd let you know that I am going to go inside." 

"You're leaving?" 

"For as short a time as can be allowed. It is nearly lunch. I thought perhaps you might be hungry." 

"Starving!" 

Your eagerness made him laugh. He bent to press a quick kiss to the top of your sweaty, dirt-dotted forehead, then he straightened and headed for the door. 

"I will return promptly with sustenance. If you have need of me, I am but a shout away," he said as he reached the porch. 

"Okay! I miss you already." 

"And I you." Thor blew you a second kiss. Shortly after that, he ducked inside. 

Your heart fluttered at the sound of the door snapping shut behind him. You knelt alone in the grass with nothing but the chirping birds and distant traffic for company. Anyone might see you exposed like that, and the kitchen window faced the side yard. All Thor would be able to see were the fragile sprouts of the root vegetables growing there. Originally it had seemed like a good idea for you to hold off planting the tomatoes and squashes in the vegetable garden until later in the afternoon so as to take advantage of the shade your patio offered. Now you wondered if you ought to start on those early. Doing so would keep you in Thor's line of sight at least... 

No. Wrapping your hand more securely around the handle of your trowel, you dived back into the dirt. You had been relying far too much on him lately—especially once your baby bump grew large enough for people to see. He went out of his way to look after you. This included not only learning how to cook so you would have something to eat on your worst days of depression, but also taking a temporary leave of absence from the Avengers. If you didn't rein it in soon, he was bound to get sick of your clingy behavior. 

The rate at which you worked soon left you with nothing to do but plant. Planting required seeds. This was the difficult part; you had to keep your thoughts very carefully balanced as you picked up one of the packets at your side. Thor didn't need to come back with twelve grilled cheese sandwiches to find you bawling in the yard because— 

You tore the envelope open with your teeth, then spilled the seeds into your free palm. They were long and multicolored: white in the middle, with black on one end and a bristle of orange at the other. Along with the snapdragons waiting patiently for their introduction to the soil, you hoped that the marigolds’ bursts of color would bring some cheer in the dreaded days to come. Neither would unless you finished your job. Busying yourself with pressing the seeds into the dirt, you allowed yourself to get lost in the hobby you so loved long enough to lose track of the passing time. 

"And here I thought you couldn't get _more_ beautiful." 

This time, the voice that issued from behind you was _not_ expected. No, it wasn't Thor—but the voice _was_ familiar all the same. A chill washed over you at the thought, then froze you to the spot when you heard the front gate creak open a minute or so later. 

He wasn't there. He couldn't be there. You hadn't heard a _peep_ from Kevin in months. No letters appeared in your mailbox; no calls rang out in the middle of the night. Occasionally he or his car would appear to you in crowded streets, but those were only visual hallucinations brought on by trauma. _Thor_ never saw Kevin, and he had been on high alert for any sign of the man he so desired to introduce to Mjolnir. 

For some time, you did your best to continue with your task. These marigolds weren't going to plant themselves. The prickle on the back of your neck would not dissipate, however, no matter how hard you concentrated on the proper spacing for your seeds. You could not keep yourself from getting to your feet so you could give the yard a thorough check. Hopefully that would prove you were hearing things, and then you could carry on until Thor returned. 

No such luck. Kevin stood there, bold as brass, underneath the tree. He smiled as you met his eyes. 

"Pregnancy really suits you," he said. 

What possible response could anyone expect to that statement? You didn't have the wherewithal to come up with anything remotely witty either. None of your hallucinatory Kevins had stuck around this long before. They disappeared almost as soon as you spotted them. Not this Kevin. In fact, he seemed to grow larger and more solid as you stared at him. The world darkened and waved around the ages; you felt gravity sucking your head down, down, down— 

"Hey," he said gently, much louder this time. 

The good news was that Kevin had not come into possession of Scott's adapted Ant-Man suit. The bad news was that he had changed in size because he had walked right up to you. Only his swift action had prevented you from fainting and hitting your head on one of the gardening tools surrounding you. You could not find it in yourself to be grateful for his rescue, though, because that meant he had his hands on your body. 

"You okay?" he asked. 

Your breath hitched in your lungs, preventing you from calling for help. You settled for shoving him as hard as you could away from you. Somehow this surprised him; Kevin went off balance and fell backward onto the lawn. Unfortunately, doing this also put an end to any of your delusions of him being a figment of your imagination. His body was just as hard and real—if not more so—as it had been the last time you had seen him. 

It wouldn't take him long to recover. You snatched up the cultivator rake at your feet and brandished it at his face. His eyes narrows on its wicked points. Slowly, Kevin lifted his hands in front of him... 

...then snickered as he made to sit up more properly on the ground. 

"What do you think you're gonna do with that?" he wanted to know. 

"I plan to convince you to get away from me," you snarled. 

"By gouging my eyes out?" 

"I mean it, Kev." 

"Why?" He blinked up at you. "I was only trying to keep you from getting hurt." 

"Oh, _that's_ rich, coming from _you_." 

"Seriously, [Name]. What if you had fallen on that thing? That's the sort of accident your boyfriend should be here to prevent, don't you think?" 

He said this with such a blithe expression that you _knew_. His appearance in your yard was not some chance encounter. Kevin had been watching at least all morning for the opportunity to talk to you alone. 

"Get out of my yard! Now!" you said. 

Kevin shook his head. "This all sounds a little familiar, doesn't it? Haven't we had this conversation before? You couldn't get me to leave then, and you can't get me to leave now. Not until I _want_ to." 

"You wouldn't dare. We're in full view of the street." 

"Right. Which means _you_ wouldn't dare assault me with a sharp object here either." 

Why did he have to be right so often? Still, you didn't put down your makeshift weapon. It seemed to be keeping Kevin at a fair distance, if nothing else. You didn't quit scowling either. On the off chance one of your neighbors spotted this conversation, at least they would know you weren't enjoying it. 

"Relax, [Name]," he said coaxingly. "I'm not here to hurt you." 

"Like I believe _that_." 

"When have I _ever_ hurt you?" he asked innocently. 

Rage pumped into your system. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the _last_ time you came to see me?" 

"That's not what _I_ remember happening." 

His words twisted your gut. Just how much of this meeting had he planned ahead? Using your own words against you made it seem like he had wanted to talk to you for a very long time. Now you wondered if all those times you'd seen him before had been hallucinations after all. Saying any of this in front of Thor, Hope, or Hank would be a much stupider decision than you could give Kevin credit for. Your voice was hushed as you said: 

"Why did you come here, Kevin?" 

"Can't a guy visit his ex-girlfriend unannounced without being accused of having ulterior motives? _I_ thought you wanted to stay _friends_." 

Kevin had no clue just how close you were to shearing his smug mouth right off his face. He couldn't know that, because otherwise he would have _stopped talking_. Keeping yourself from acting on the impulse took a tremendous amount of effort—effort you might have otherwise spent on screaming at him, if you’d had any to spare. 

"Say what you came here to say and _go_ ," you snapped. "This time I _will_ call the police. Don't test me." 

"I didn't come here to _say_ anything. I only wanted to see if it was true." 

"To see if _what_ was true?" 

He reached for you, as though wanting to take your hand and pull you down next to him. You instead took a step backward. Shrugging, he allowed his hand to drop. 

"I heard you were pregnant," he answered. 

Nausea swelled like a toxic bubble in your stomach. _How_ had Kevin heard? Not many people knew about your baby—only Thor, Hank, Janet, Hope, and Scott that you'd spoken to personally. Even the last you trusted not to spread the news around casually. Hope would kill him in the most painful way she could dream up. The Avengers had some idea, of course, but they had no reason to tell anyone else. Your parents, hidden away on some secret mission, remained out of the loop. All this meant that no one _you_ informed would _ever_ have let Kevin in on the secret. 

"Are you _following_ me?" you demanded. 

Kevin scoffed. "I've got better things to do than keep tabs on my exes, [Name]." 

"Then how—" 

"Your 'bestie'? Yeah, she's not the only one with connections at your new company. I've got power now, [Name]. I've got _friends_. Did you _really_ think wearing a bunch of baggy sweaters around the office was going to fool _anyone_?" 

"Who told you, then?" 

"I don't think I want to tell you that," he said slowly, standing as he did. 

You hefted your rake to chest level. "Maybe that's because they don't _exist_." 

"No, they exist, but your eyes are actually spinning around in your head right now. If I give you their name, you might go out and murder them for all I know." 

Well, Kevin wasn't too far off the mark with that observation. Your mind raced through a list of your coworkers, trying in vain to figure out which of them had betrayed you. Not a single one of them was someone you confided in, so either your boss had violated your confidence after you spoke with _her_ or it had to be a person with plenty of opportunities to observe you as you went through the various symptoms of your first trimester. 

But all this speculation really only served to keep you away from a much more important, obvious question: 

"What do _you_ care if I'm pregnant?" 

"Because the baby's mine, obviously." 

"Why would you think that?" 

"Oh, come _on_ , [Name]," he said in that aggravating falsely patient voice he used to use to win _every_ argument. "Who else's _could_ it be? You and I discussed your boyfriend's schedule, remember? He's out of town too often to meet your needs." 

"Whatever you think, this baby has _nothing_ to do with you." 

"I don't see why not." 

Kevin never had been great at understanding the concept of personal boundaries. Even when you'd just been friends as children—even when the two of you spent half your time together with Hope in the mix—he didn't much care whether someone wanted to be touched or not. During your time dating, that had meant a lot of hand holding on hot, sweaty afternoons after trying to express to him just how badly you needed some space. Now such behavior came across as a lot more threatening. He surged forward without giving you a chance to react and placed his hands directly on the swell of your stomach. 

"Hng," was all you managed to say, too torn between fear and fury to physically react. 

The smile he shot you indicated he either didn't notice your discomfort or he didn't care. "You know, I've always wanted to be a father." 

Something very strange happened next: Kevin seemed to lift into the air of his own accord. His expression as his head came level with yours twisted with a shock that mirrored your own. A second later, he flew backward across the yard to land in a heap right beside the open gate. 

"It is a pity, then, that you are so unworthy of the title," Thor said as he materialized next to you. 

Kevin quickly climbed to his feet while your boyfriend gave you a swift once over, as though to make sure no obvious harm had been done before making his edict. You weren't anything more than rattled. Rattled seemed to be enough for Thor to come to a decision. 

"You may leave now," he said. "Do so, and I shall allow you to leave unscathed. If you choose not to, that would be unwise. I assure you that I will do much worse than call the appropriate authorities." 

"Is that a threat?" Kevin asked, smoothing his rumpled hair. 

"It is a promise. Come, [Name]. Lunch is on the table." 

His attempt to steer you to the porch without body contact didn't get either of you very far. You had only managed to loose your death grip on the rake handle when Kevin decided to make that unwise decision he'd been warned against: 

"That baby," he said, "is mine." 

Thor didn't bother to turn toward him. "You are not the child's father." 

"Oh yeah? You get a paternity test?" 

"There is no need." 

Footsteps issued from somewhere behind you: Kevin running up to Thor's elbow. _This_ got your boyfriend to stop, and you had to give Kevin credit for not cowering at the stony look upon Thor's face. All he did instead was lift his hands up to his shoulders. 

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you out, man. How are you supposed to raise a baby? The way [Name] told me, you're gone almost all the time. Busy, you know. Up in New York. With Black Widow." 

A gentle crackle in the air told _you_ that Kevin's insinuations weren't winning him any favors. Thor stood very, very still at your side, a sure sign that only his knowledge that summoning his hammer would break your house was stopping him from doing so. 

"[Name], tell him," Kevin said. 

"What?" you gasped, disoriented by being drawn suddenly into the conversation once more. 

"You didn't tell him what really happened that night, did you? Go on. Tell him. He deserves to know." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Sure you do. Tell him!" 

Thor put an enormous arm between you and Kevin when the latter lurched at you. "I will not prevent [Name] from speaking to you if it is what she desires, but if you continue attempting to touch her, I will remove you from these premises myself. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Crystal!" Kevin insisted, but he inched toward you despite the obstacle. "[Name], don't you think you ought to tell the truth?" 

What _truth_? Everything that happened the night you'd seen Kevin, every little gory detail, had been described to Thor. You could not for the life of you grasp just what Kevin wanted _now_. If you could not answer him, Thor would throw him bodily from the yard, and you were nearly desperate enough to let him. Unfortunately, Thor would not always be able to be so close by. Maybe Kevin would be—which meant that by the time the Avengers faced their next world ending crisis, you needed to be able to get rid of him on your own. 

"I did tell him the truth, Kev. Every bit of it," you said flatly. 

Kevin looked at Thor. “ _Did_ she?” 

“She told me you assaulted her, yes,” Thor growled. 

Kevin’s blue eyes went wide. They darted from your face to Thor’s, and for the moment it seemed as though Kevin understood his position there clearly. One hand lifted to his thin lips. You didn’t exactly expect an _apology_ from him by that point, but you also didn’t expect what _did_ come out of his lips next: 

“ _That’s_ what you came up with?” he asked incredulously, and doubled over with laughter. 

You and Thor exchanged confused looks. His lasted only a moment before he returned to glowering darkly at the man in front of him. 

“You believe any portion of this situation to be _funny_?” Thor demanded. 

Kevin sobered just a little as the distant sound of thunder rolled across a sky dotted with fluffy clouds—but only _just_ a little. He continued to smile. “Yeah. I do. Because I thought _your_ people were supposed to be smarter than this.” 

“Smarter than what?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? Don’t they have _women_ where you come from?” 

"Either you will put an end to your riddles or you will be gone." 

"Fine! Fine!" The cold wind whipping through the yard must have got to him. Kevin plunged plunged his hand into his front pockets as he looked you right in the eyes. "When you were away, [Name] called me up and asked to come screw her. For old time's sake." 

" _What_?" you gasped, horrified, but Thor did not permit you any time to worry he might believe your ex-boyfriend's words. The clouds above your heads congealed into a dark morass through which forks of lightning flashed so often the thunder became nearly continuous. 

Still Kevin did not put two and two together. "So she didn't tell you that part, I'm guessing." 

"I came home," Thor said in a low, guttural voice that grew in volume as he went on, "to find her beaten and bruised in the hospital!" 

"Yeah? Wow, your sex must be real vanilla. [Name] _likes_ it rough, or hasn't she ever told you that? Oh, right. If _you_ tried to give her what she wanted, you'd probably accidentally _kill_ her." 

"Liar!" you shrieked. 

Kevin took one step backward when you launched yourself at him, but he need not have bothered. Thor quickly caught you around the middle. His weight was an effective enough anchor that he required no strength to keep you from moving forward. You swiped your arms, hands clawed, in Kevin's direction. No matter what direction you struggled, you could not reach him. 

"[Name], be careful," Thor said, though the coming storm still swirled around you. 

"[Name], listen to your boyfriend," Kevin chided you. "You keep that up, and you might hurt the baby." 

"As though _you_ care about my baby!" you said. 

"Not just your baby. _Our_ baby. It's half mine." 

Lightning slammed into the asphalt on the street just outside your yard as Thor's grip on you tightened. "Whether or not you have some biological claim on the infant has no bearing on anything further you might have to do with it," he said. 

"Really. Is that so?" Kevin asked you. 

Your energy had not returned in such great amounts you could fight against Thor's arms for long. Luckily, spitting at Kevin's feet didn't take much energy at all. That _ought_ to have been answer enough. Apparently not, because Kevin next did something very dangerous: He strode right up to you and placed his clammy hand against your cheek. 

"This is a sign, [Name]. You're supposed to be with _me_ , not with this asshole. That baby is ours to raise togeth—" 

Thor wrenched Kevin into the air by the front of his shirt, and this time he did not carefully toss him away. The former's eyes had gone completely white with electricity; the wind howled, thrashing the new leaves on your tree; lightning crackled from Thor's free palm. 

"Be careful in how you choose your next words," Thor said. "They may well be the last you ever speak." 

Kevin squirmed. "G-Go ahead, Big Man! I'll have _you_ arrested for assault if you try anything. What do you think about—oof!" 

Hitting the ground hard brought Kevin no relief. Following his short declaration of pain came the distinct sound of shattering glass and a familiar whistling. Thor had summoned Mjolnir at last. An earth-rending blast of thunder issued from the hammer as it found its place in his hand. 

"I would like to see you try. I doubt even the backwards courts of this Midgardian nation would find fault in me ridding its streets of scum like you. Leave this place! Now!" he barked suddenly. 

No longer could Kevin play at courage. Rain as hard as bullets fell upon your trio, and this thunderstorm showed no signs of letting up. Thor also looked every bit the Thunder God those fanzines always squealed about now that he held Mjolnir—or at least he did until your staggering ex-boyfriend slammed the gate behind him. After that, all the weather and all the electricity vanished at once. A calm spring day surrounded your home once more. 

"Be warned," Thor said, "should there be a next time, I will not be so merciful." 

Trembling, soaked through from head to toe, Kevin no longer cut the intimidating figure he had at the start of that afternoon's altercation. You allowed Thor to turn you gently toward the house, take your hand, and begin once more to lead you toward the porch. So confident were you that Kevin could have nothing more to say that you didn't bother looking back at him as you made your slow, sodden trek to the front steps—not until he called after you: 

"This isn't over!" 

Lightning surged again into Mjolnir. Kevin stumbled backward with a yelp, but he was not to be deterred now that a barrier—even as flimsy a barrier as your picket fence—stood between himself and Thor. Moving away, he continued to talk: 

"That baby is mine. Mine. I'm going to see it after it's born, and I'm going to see you. You want to go to court? I'll _take_ you to court." 

"You really think—" you began hotly, but Kevin cut you off in a voice dripping with venom: 

"There's precedent. You're going to regret today. Both of you are." 

Thor stepped forward, but Kevin was already sprinting up the street to wherever he had presumably hidden his car while he watched your yard. To pursue him, Thor would have had to leave you alone and unguarded, or waste precious time waiting for Hope or Scott to arrive to look after you. He chose not to do either. Instead, you both went wordlessly back into the house. 

Unfortunately, you could no longer find it in yourself to eat. You knew the effort Thor had put into cooking your meal; you knew you ought to eat for your own good and the baby's. No knowledge could overcome the anxiety coursing through your veins. The haunted look in Thor's eyes—and his own refusal to pick up his plate—led you to believe that _his_ thoughts were of the same nauseating nature as your own.


End file.
